A Kiss Between the Maxilla and Mandible
by CaptainConrad.and.Loki
Summary: Booth tells Brennan about his feelings.


"Female," Brennan prattled on, moving the skeleton and running her gloved hands along the grooves. The woods were cold this early in the morning, and Booth was having a hard enough time focusing when all he wanted to do was be warm, again. He had left his coat in the car, and he was severely regretting it. Bones had told him not to. Did he listen?

No.

"Her dental structure suggests she was no more than twenty-five," she continued. "There's a former fracture on the radius of the right upper extremity . . . and butterfly fractures between the maxilla and mandible . . ."

"In English, Bones?" Booth asked as he sipped on his second coffee of the day. "Please?" It was originally intended for the doctor, but she refused in the excitement of a new body to examine. He didn't mind. She had thanked him for it, which was more than most people got on a good day.

"She broke right here," Camille said, pointing to the upper spot on her right arm. "And here." She pointed to her mouth. Booth just nodded, looking around at the crime scene.

Angela was snapping photos while Hodgins was scraping dirt out of the skull. Booth always knew this routine, but something was different this time: he was only watching one head, not the usual five, six, seven. It was just one, and it wasn't the victim.

He muttered a simple, " 'Kay."

"There's slight bruising on the metacarpal bones and the left radius on the left upper extremity, as well as a shattered femur and another hairline fracture on the mandible," Brennan said. "There's also a rupture between the parietal bone and the temporal bone. Signs of a struggle." She looked up at Booth, meeting his eyes. Her bright, turquoise eyes . . .

"So, it's a murder?"

"It could be a homicide. Or she fell," Cam suggested.

"What could she have fallen on to have aluminum and mass concentrates of iron in her wound?" Hodgins asked, looking up at Camille. "Of course, it's a murder. What else could it be? She slipped on a rock and fell on a metal tree?"

"I don't know," Cam said, rolling her eyes. "What I _do_ know is that this girl is dead, and there is no flesh for me to go over other than the little pieces of brain and muscle I have to wait for."

"She's been dead for no more than a week," Jack declared. "There are still maggots." He picked one up with his tweezers, offering it to Cam. "Do you want to—?"

"NO."

"Bones, why don't we let the squinterns take the body to the Jeffersonian, and you and I can get something to eat?" Booth piped up. He bounced on the balls of his feet, taking in the air. "You up to it?"

"I suppose," she said, standing. Temperance removed her gloves and walked over to him with a furrowed brow and deeper-than-usual scowl. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah! I'm fine," he said, taking in a deep breath at the sight of his beautiful partner. He thanked God he hadn't taken another sip of coffee; he might have choked on it when he saw her. Today was shaping up to be just dandy. "Are you alright?"

"You're acting strange," Brennan responded, closing her eyes tightly. "I don't understand. I'm not sure I want to." She sighed, wiping her face and pinching her nose. Temperance shook her head. "Let's go, Booth, I want to eat with you."

"Well, where do you want to eat?" he asked. He felt his ears burn and his face grow hot. Had they ever acknowledged Booth's feelings for her, Temperance might have been closer to him. Maybe. But it might have gone south, or they might not work together, afterward.

Booth needed to be next to her. By her side. Whether or not he ever heard her say she loved him, or hear the words from his own mouth, he knew he couldn't just ruin this without proper cause or reasoning. His gut told him that.

As much as Bones hated his gut. . .

"I don't know," she mused. "The diner? Someplace new?" She thought for a moment, setting her hands on her hips. Booth loved her hands, her hips, the way she swayed or bounced when she thought about something quickly; it drove him nuts. "The Royal Diner. It's our place."

_Their_ place. He felt his heart jump into his throat. "Yeah. Our place. Come on, Bones." He offered his arm, smiling softly at his partner. Brennan grinned, taking his arm with a little flair. It wasn't noticeable by most, but Booth picked up on it. He always did.

"You seem nervous," she said.

"I'm not nervous! What would I have to be nervous about?" he laughed anxiously. He swallowed thickly. "Maybe you just _think_ I'm nervous."

"No," Brennan argued lightly. "You're nervous, and I wish you would tell me why."

"You'll know," he said, fully intending on not telling her anything. "I promise."

"I'll make you," she warned with a soft smile. "Never forget that." She bumped him affectionately.

* * *

Booth sat down at the table when they got to their usual spot at the Royal Diner. "Can we talk?" he asked in a clipped voice, clearing his throat gently. He tried to avoid meeting her eyes before he readied the subject; Brennan was always the type to

"I knew it," Brennan said, shaking her head. She took one of his fries again as he adjusted himself in his chair.

Seeley's heart was pounding, and his head was swimming. Was this really what love felt like? Or was he just going crazy? Was this unrequited love or was it just fascination? Booth didn't know what it really did feel like since, most of the time, the feeling was returned.

"Knew what?" he asked breathlessly.

"You're worried about something." Brennan cocked her head, shaking her hair. He loved her hair. He always wanted to touch it. And her bright blue eyes, the way they sparkled when they captured the sunlight or how she creased her eyebrows while looking over a fractured skull always amazed him. He had her memorized.

It made him angry just as much as it made him happy.

"No, I'm not," Seeley grumbled, gritting his teeth. "I just think you and I should go and talk to Sweets. It's kind of important."

Temperance rolled her beautiful, beautiful eyes. She rested her hands in front of her on the table. "Booth, I think we're doing fine; we haven't gotten into a disagreement in so long—"

"We're about to, Bones," Booth pleaded. He set his hand on top of hers. "Just let me talk. You won't like it, either."

"Booth, you're scaring me," Brennan whispered. "What's going on?"

"I love you, Bones," Booth murmured. "Never forget that."

"How could I forget?" Brennan held his hands tightly. He knew where this was headed. "I love you, too, now what's going on?"

"Nothing," he said. "It's just . . . the way I love you. Bones, I've thought about this for a long time. I finally have my ducks in a row."

His partner's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth quickly. "What do you mean?"

Booth tried his hardest to not cry. He mumbled, "I mean it, Temperance. I have my ducks in a row. I want you." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm in love with you."

The doctor stood up. He buried his face in his hands. The squinterns would have a kick out of this, and so would Sweets. Well, no. Sweets would jump up and down. "Please, tell me this is your sick idea of a joke!" she cried. Spectators turned their heads, but Booth didn't care.

"It's not."

"You know I can't do this, Booth, w-we work together," she begged. "Say it's just a prank! A gag!" Booth hated to see the tears brimming in her eyes. He hated making her upset. Seeley wanted to cry himself.

"Bones," Booth said so quietly a bat could barely hear. "Please, just listen. Please."

Brennan sniffled, but took a seat. "I can't. We'd be terrible mates. We're better off as friends."

"I know." Booth kissed her knuckles. She let him.

"I love you, but I can't," Temperance echoed.

"I'm _in_ love with you."

"I'm sorry," she apologized with silent tears. "I want to, but I don't know if I'm capable. . ."

"Don't be sorry," he said to her. "We both know how we feel, and that's what's important, right?" She nodded, sniffling, again. He smiled at her through the tears. She laughed some.

"We can work together, still, right?"

Booth didn't answer. Brennan wiped her eyes.

"I don't know how you even decided you love me, emotionally speaking," she said in the rational tone that always ground his gears and made him furious. This time, it just made Seeley's heart crack. "I'm cold, indifferent, irritating; we don't agree; I don't believe in marriage and you do—"

"Bones, if you could marry anyone in the world right now, who would it be and why?" he asked suddenly, picking up a fork to study it. Anything but look at his partner. Anything but see her cry, or to risk crying himself. "If you were required by law to marry someone, who would it be?"

She blinked. "Booth, that's not—"

"Answer the question. I know it won't be me." Booth sat back, feeling a little better now that he had been honest. He still felt the hurt from the rejection. He couldn't just stop feeling it—but he knew what Temperance was saying, even if she didn't, yet. She returned some sort of feeling. She just didn't know what to do with them.

"Seeley Booth," she whispered.

"Hm?" The agent looked up.

"It'd be you. You're the only one who's stuck around for me."

"Well," he said, "whenever you decide that we're better off as mates than friends, just give me a sign."

"It'll be a kiss," she said quickly.

"A kiss?"

"Between the mandible and the maxilla."

"Where's that?" Booth asked with a hopeful smile. A kiss!

Temperance smirked. "You'll have to wait and see."

* * *

END


End file.
